Legacies
by DontForgetWhereYouGotMe
Summary: And these legacies will follow them until the day they die. Can they ever outrun them? Should they even try?
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger sat at the Gryffindor table in the Grand Hall of her school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She knew she should be enjoying the atmosphere of the joyous scene. She knew she should be indulging in the succulent chicken breast that lie before her and laughing through her nose at the way Ron devoured his, but...

She couldn't take it anymore. The tears were coming, and she had to let go of them. Quickly, she jumped out of her seat and sprinted out of the Great Hall, the tears streaming from her face and being blown by the wind into her hair.

Hermione could hear Ron calling behind her, but the lack of footsteps echoing through the halls proved that he had not made the effort to come after her. She sped up, heading toward the Room of Requirement, until she stopped, remembering that the passage that used to lead to Hogsmeade had been sealed earlier that day.

She still fought to hold back the tears pooling in her eyes, but it was too late. Defeated, she simply dropped to her knees and let them fall.

It felt good letting her emotions out, and although the tears still came, Hermione could feel the angst and depression inside her being replaced with a soft, pensive sadness.

She hiccupped and rubbed her swollen, blurred eyes. She let out a huge sigh, and the tears stopped coming. She wiped the traces away and took several deep breaths until she was confident her flushed face had gone back to normal.

Scooting over to the side of the hallway, she rested her back against the wall and hugged her knees, letting her hands fall to her ankles, and then to the floor.

She ran her finger over the cracks between the bricks in the cold, stone floor, until her hand bumped into something cold and smooth.

Calmed after her recent emotional outburst, Hermione did not start, but instead simply looked down towards the object in question.

It was one of Professor Trelawney's crystal balls. The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched as she remembered how the nutty Professor had hoisted them over the balcony and used them to pummel the Death Eaters in the head. This one seemed to have survived the fall; not a scratch lay on it, and the surface was smooth and free of chipping.

Hermione picked the ball up. She normally didn't approve of Divination, as it was the most uncertain field of magic, but today, she would give anything to know what lay ahead.

As she looked into it, she was shocked to find a miniature version of Trelawney's face. The teacher's goggle eyes, wild hair, and distant expression stared out at Hermione from the murky depths of the crystal.

The mini-Trelawney gave a sudden shutter, and then began to speak in a raspy voice.

"I see you. Yours is a body of good spirit and nature, your soul, a soul full of torment. You have taken actions in this life that you regret, and through these actions, you have created for yourself a legacy, a bond that ties you eternally to the actions that others expect you to take. In time, your legacy becomes intertwined with your choices, threatening to rip your life apart by the seams if you stray from its path. But tonight, not one, but two legacies will be broken, and the destinies of those two will be entwined forevermore. And the shattered remains of the legacies will splinter the two who dared defy them, until their hearts run out of blood..." Trelawney's voice faded, as did her image, leaving Hermione pondering the cryptic words of the prophecy that had been foreclosed to her.

Hermione's head was spinning with all the questions. She could still hear the chatter of the celebrators in the Great Hall, and decided to get up and move. She needed a quiet place to sit and think.

Slowly, as though in a daze, she sat up and buttoned her coat. She placed the crystal ball into a worn leather bag, and made her way down towards the front doors of the castle.

Gathering all her strength, Hermione shouldered the huge iron door aside, until it left an opening large enough for her to slip through.

Outside, a light snow had begun to fall; the grounds were already dusted with white, and as soon as Hermione stepped outside, snowflakes settled on her nose, hair and eyelashes.

Her feet made prints in the snow behind her as she began the three-kilometer long trek to the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade.

As she got there, shouldering the door against the cold draft, Hermione found a warm, crackling fire waiting to welcome her. She looked around to make sure Aberforth wasn't there, although she knew he was still at the feast with the others.

Then she let herself drop beside the fire, staring into its flames and fingering the crystal ball in her pocket, wondering what the future held for her.


	2. Chapter 2

The snow barred Draco's way as he made his way towards the Hog's Head Inn. He had narrowly escaped his parents yet again; his idiot mother was probably looking for him right now, screaming his name throughout the halls of Hogwarts, closely followed by his father.

Draco wasn't in the mood for their antics right now. He needed to get away, to clear his head. Now that the - Dark Lord, had died, Draco felt a relief that he'd never known before. He hadn't felt this carefree since fifth year. Before the task he was assigned, before he was branded with the infernal mark that still remained on his left arm - tears stung the corners of his eyes. Now that he was out of the war, he just needed a good place to collapse and cry away all the stress of his previous days.

So it was to the Hog's Head he traveled. That old nutter who ran the place was down at the feast the last time he'd seen, so the place should be empty.

Draco trekked dutifully through the snow, tiny flakes falling on his hair, coat and eyelashes, the wind blowing wildly, fighting against him. It was nighttime and everything seemed more sepia in the cloudy gloom. Draco squinted at the sky, at the small flakes falling, so delicate, and remembered years and years past where he would watch the clouds of the sky from Malfoy Manor over Christmas break, or from the towering window of the Slytherin Common room.

Back then he'd seen the snow out the windows, from inside. It was nice, warm and even cozy. Now, as he watched the flakes fall, it was cold. Cold snow seeping through his boots, cold wind draining his ungloved hands and nose. He pulled his coat further around him as he trekked on.

Before long the Hog's head in came looming out of the gloom. He made his way towards it, thankful that these were the final steps of his ever-bitter journey. He practically latched onto the door, clinging for life as if more than the cold was trying to pull him away. Against the wind, he pushed down the latch and shoved open the door - immediately he was engulfed by a cloud of warm air - well, cold air, but warmer, warm to him. He closed the door with a crack behind him, and sunk slightly against it, relaxing and closing his eyes to catch his breath and his emotions.

It was better for him to run away, he knew. But he just wished he didn't have to run away at all. He wished he could be happy where he was, could stay put, make someone other than his mother proud of him. But that was not an option for him. The only way he was ever going to make anyone proud was not by staying put, but by running as far away from the war, from the Dark Lord's grasp, as possible. It was the only way he was going to survive, forget about making people proud. The world ultimately slapped him, stinging, in the face anyway. Why should he try to give it the same courtesy it had not given him?

Draco didn't want to open his eyes. He just closed them tighter, wanting to get away from the world, to escape into a secret place where the only pleasure and joy would be being cut off from the real world. The rest of him was continually surrounded by pain. So he let his body sink to the ground and his mind sink deeper and deeper into a world only he knew.


End file.
